Page 36 of Princess Claimed

On that dance floor, the men made me feel like the most beautiful, the most important woman in the world…

And again, I thought that was the apex of my night.

But now, spending this time with Crusher, dancing slowly with him, intimately, after hearing his story and recognizing its parallels to my own… My cup truly runneth over.

Something shifts in the darkness beside us.

I glance into the closed gallery, and Phil appears in my peripheral vision. Hiding my reaction, I press the side of my face against Crusher’s chest, so I can focus on Phil, without drawing my dance partner’s attention.

My eyes adjust to the darkness, and my heart beats erratically, because, alongside the threat and anger I’ve come to expect in Phil’s eyes, they’re brimming with something else. With lust, and with…with longing.

I try to talk myself out of what I’m seeing in Phil’s eyes, but it just grows clearer. My heart thumps, skipping entire beats as Phil’s amber eyes scald my skin, boring in to penetrate my entire body. I fight the urge the check that my gown hasn’t incinerated under Phil’s heated attention, but then Crusher’s hand slides over my ribs, and the crystals’ pressure confirms my gown is still there.

“Ana.” Crusher’s husky voice draws my attention, and I’m swept into yet another sea of longing.

Hearing his story moved me, deeply, and I feel closer to him than I ever imagined possible. Crusher not only recognizes my lasting heartbreak, he lived the same kind of loss, he understands it. I don’t yet know much about Blade’s or Phil’s childhoods, but knowing how Crusher and Flame both lost their families even younger than I did, I’m overwhelmed by a feeling that’s so bitter-sweet, so interlaced with joy and pain I can’t name it.

As I gaze into Crusher’s eyes, his lips move closer to mine, so close his breath washes over my face, lifting the faint veil of sorrow that fell there and raising my joy to new heights. Assuming Crusher is like the others, kissing will be a new experience for him. Phil could still be watching, but I’m not sure I care.

I could take matters into my own hands. I could simply reach up and pull this massive vampire’s lips down to meet mine. But every instinct inside me says that kissing must be Crusher’s choice, his initiative. With this act, he is the beginner. And while I’m a novice, he’s the one who thinks kissing is wrong.

From the gallery, Phil draws a long breath, and my gaze flicks to the side.

The intensity in Phil’s eyes deepens, and a tremor of fear and desire shudders through me.

Crusher spins to the side, his arms firming around me. “Who’s there!”

He relaxes. “Phil. What the fuck?”

Lifting me into his arms, Crusher steps over the velvet rope marking the area the museum that’s blocked off for the night. Setting me down, he leaves his arm around my shoulders as we move toward Phil.

“How long have you been up here?” Crusher asks, his voice tight, and I wonder whether he’s more worried that Phil heard him tell his childhood story, or whether he saw him nearly kiss me. He’s likely worried about both.

“I was up here before you.” Phil keeps his gaze on the floor.

“Is there another staircase?” Crusher asks.

Phil smirks. “I jumped.”

Crusher’s arm tightens around me. “You might have been seen.”

“You’re one to fucking talk.” Looking up, he shakes his head, presumably admonishing Crusher for the near kiss.

Phil shifts, drawing my eyes to his obvious bulge, and reminding me of the look I saw in his eyes when I first discovered him watching. If Phil was spying on us the entire time, he could have stopped us. But he didn’t. And if he disapproved so much, why is he hard?

Phil grunts.

I lift my gaze, and it slams against his.

He smirks. He knows exactly where I was looking.

But his expression quickly transforms into anger, and his resentment chokes the distance between us, blocking all my warmer emotions.

“Why are you compelled to ruin this night?” I step out from under Crusher’s arm. “If you don’t want to be here, then leave.” Feeling exposed to Phil’s gaze, I cross my arms over the sparkling bodice. “Do you always act like a child when you don’t get your way?”

His chest vibrates slightly, and his eyes flash with laughter, although the rest of his expression stays stern.

“And what exactly do you find funny?” I ask, keeping my chin raised, refusing to fold under the weight of his ridicule and ire.

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